


Green Team

by deanandhissammy



Series: Asshole and His Bodyguard [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, And funny dean, Angst, Bodyguard, Fluff, Honestly this took so long, I wrote most of this at 1 am okay, M/M, Smut, There's a kitten scene, Top!Sam, bottom!Dean, hmm, what other tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:34:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6531382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanandhissammy/pseuds/deanandhissammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is an asshole. A full of himself, arrogant, cocky bastard, and Sam had the extreme luck of being hired as his bodyguard. Sam hates him. So much. It's not that he treats him badly, he's just annoying. And irritating. And so very hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green Team

"No."

"Awe, c’mon Sam, just tonight. Just a little while."

"I said no." Sam glared at where Dean was looking at him from the couch.

"But it's so boring here. And it'll just be a little while. I promise." Dean was looking up at him with big eyes, silently pleading.

"You have every game and movie known to mankind. I’m sure you can find something to do." God. This guy just wants to get on Sam's nerves doesn't he? Why Sam agreed to be the bodyguard to Dean Winchester he'll never know. Oh wait, the money. Money was getting tight at home. But it was just one  month, Sam can survive one  month. He's already half way through, just a couple more weeks of not throttling Dean. He can do it.

"So far there's only you, but if you're offering...." he leered, seductively wetting his lips and winking. The bastard.

"Fine!" Sam said, a little louder than normal, throwing his hands up. He turned around to grab the mandatory gun and slip it into his waistband.

"Fine to what?" Suddenly there was hot air against Sam's neck and a body pressed up close enough to be felt but not be touching, and Sam tensed up, his training making him instinctively prepare to defend an attack, before forcing his muscles to relax. A faint blush tinged his cheeks at the implication to Dean's words.

"Fine to going out. Get your mind out of the gutter." _As if I'd want to do that with the filthy manwhore Dean._ Sam scoffed in his mind and quickly shut down the thoughts of a hot body pressed up against his own and a wet mouth and all the dirty things one could get up to in bed. He was working right now, that wasn't something he could think about. And especially not because Dean brought it up. And especially not of freckles and those fucking perfect, full lips pressed against his, panting against his mouth and just nope nope nope. Dean's such an annoying dickwad.

"Damn. What a shame." Dean still hadn't moved and Sam was pretty sure he was licking his lips. Well. He would bet that’s what Dean was doing because that’s what he’s seen Dean do repeatedly when flirting with someone. Not that Sam was paying attention to Dean’s lips or anything. Pfff.  

“Dean you should go get ready if we’re going out.” He refused to turn around, just stood there with Dean breathing down his neck. Literally.

“I am ready.” His breath was tickling Sam’s neck, and Sam was sorely tempted to flip Dean to the ground. But that would just give Dean lot’s more to suggest. Has Sam mentioned what an asshole he is?

"Fine. Where're we going?" Sam turned around and gave Dean his bitchface #6. Their faces were scant inches apart, and from this proximity Sam could see the freckles Dean had, could probably count them. And was it just him or did Dean's eyes seem to get even more beautiful, his dark, long lashes a contrast to the bright green.

Surprise flickered through Dean's eyes before he covered it up and grinned easily.

"I know a place, it's nearby. We can just walk." Dean's tongue peeped out to wet his lips, and Sam's eyes tracked the motion.

"Okay. Well we better be going then." Something was happening and whatever it was Sam knew he shouldn't let it happen, so he took a step back. He is professional and good at his job. He is a goddamn professional and Dean's just an irritating dicklick. What could have been disappointment, but was probably just Dean gloating at Sam like the irritating shit he is, flashed in Dean's eyes before he stepped away as well and walked to the door, Sam following.

~

Sam was completely unprepared for the pure amount of sunlight streaming outside, and he had to blink and shield his eyes for a little while before he finally could see things properly.

"Damn it's bright out," he muttered.

"Oh come on, don't be such a mope. It's great out! The sun is shining, the birds are singing, life is good. Cheer up mate." Dean's grin was almost as blinding as the sun, and Sam really couldn't help but grin as well. Fucking Dean and his contagious grins.

"Please never do an Australian accent ever again."

"Hey, I think I do an amazing accent. G'day mate." Dean threw in a wink, the shitfuck.

"No. Just. No."

"Pfff fine. You can be totally unfun on that side of the sidewalk," Dean's fingers, gentle on his bicep, pushed him over that tiniest fraction and, hah, definitely didn’t making that warm thing curl tighter in his stomach, "And I will be on the fun side where people actually want to be. Unlike your mopey side filled with dead puppies." Dean's foot drew a line through the middle of a sidewalk not big enough to fit two over-six-foot men with broad shoulders (Except Dean's are slender. Broad but not like Sam's. Sam's are thick and stocky and too big. Dean's are slim and sleek and big yes but perfect big).

"Dead puppies?" Sam quirked his eyebrow, giving Dean a sidelong look as their shoulders brushed.

"Stay on your side. And yes. Dead puppies. It was the first sad thing I could think of. You have no right to judge," Dean defended.

"Hey, hey. Whatever you say man," Sam chuckled, the sun warming his skin and that thing inside warming his bones and making his heart pump faster.

“Oh my god, Dean Winchester! Could you take a picture with us!” A high-pitched squealing came from the side and Sam flinched. Moment ruined. He forgot that Dean was somewhat famous, had girls throwing themselves at him. He was really regretting walking to the bar. At least it was nearby.

A smug grin slid smoothly onto Dean’s face, and he turned to face the two girls basically salivating at his feet. Sam couldn’t help but dislike them, and he just told himself it was because they could be threat. Annoying twats. He wrinkled his nose. Throwing themselves at Dean. Why would anyone do that? Sam was seriously questioning their life decisions.

“Of course gorgeous. What’re your names?” He slid smoothly between them and smiled for the picture, his arms going around their shoulders. They were tiny compared to Dean. And way too young. Dean was doing nothing with encouraging their infatuation with him. Seriously. This urge of Dean’s to flirt with anything that moves is going to get him thrown in jail someday.

“I’m Sarah, that’s Jenna,” the other girl piped up. She was attractive, straight brown hair and long legs, her friend with pretty blue eyes and a great rack. Just Dean’s type. Which was anything hot. Sam huffed.

“Such beautiful names. It was nice meeting you girls,” Dean smiled at them, although it was more of a leer, and pulled each one into a tight hug, to which they giggled and whispered excitedly to each other as they walked away.

“Be careful or you’re gonna get thrown in jail for statutory rape,” he said evenly.

“Dude. I’m not dumb. I don’t fuck underage people.” Sam just raised an eyebrow and Dean punched his arm. "Contrary to popular belief, I don't actually fuck around that often, and I'm definitely safe about it."

"My mind is definitely blown right now," Sam replied, laughing, to which Dean just punched his arm again, harder. "Hey that actually hurt!"

"Well gee what a shame. You deserved it."

"Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean shot back with a smirk, nudging his shoulder against Sam's playfully. That warm thing was sprouting in Sam's stomach as he looked down at Dean with that adorable glint in his eyes and his lips quirked in that smirk that Sam just wanted to kiss away. Wait. What. Nope nope nope _nope._ Time to nope the fuck outta that thought process. This is Sam's ward, and not only that, but he's a womanizing, irritating, flirt and most definitely an asshole and Sam did not like him. At all. Those weren't tingles and definitely not butterflies. Fuck. Why does his heart do this to him.

Sam averted his eyes quickly, looking down at his feet. Think about anything but Dean. Anything. Ah. Clothes. He never really got the whole "bodyguard outfit" thing with suits and black and stuff, just dressed in plaid and neutral colors. More comfortable clothes, and they were easier to move in if need be. Plus they were loose where needed, so he could hide whatever he needed on his body, which was extremely useful in his line of business.

They fell into a silence. Not really uncomfortable, but not really comfortable either. Just a silence. Sam admired the day and soaked in the sun and kept hyper aware about Dean's movements and anything around them. He was on the job afterall.

"The bar's just up ahead," Dean said, gesturing to a nice building with a gated in area of chairs and tables and some good classic rock music drifting into the surrounding air.

"Oh. Cool." Sam was really at a loss for words. I mean really, what was he supposed to say? 'Green Team' was scrawled across the top in flowy letters, and Sam couldn't help but snicker. "What kind of name is that?"

"A name. Now c'mon." Dean grinned at him and urged him inside.

The bar was decently packed, wasn't super busy, but had enough people to lose Dean in a crowd, so Sam stuck close, glared at the people who checked Dean out.

"This is a nice place," Sam mused once they had found two seats at the bar.

"I know. That's why I wanted to come here. Two beers please." Dean signaled the bartender, and Sam noticed that Dean's eyes travelled across his (Nametag says Eric. Who the fuck is named Eric? And what bar has their bartenders wear nametags? Okay admittedly many do.) shoulders and down to blatantly check out the guy's ass. Huh. For some reason Sam didn't think Dean played for that team, but it does make sense considering how much Dean loves to sleep around. It also makes sense now that he remembers Dean never exclusively said women or females when referring to his sex life. For some other strange reason, this fact made something light and timid sprout in his chest. Which Sam was so not going to evaluate.

"As a responsible bodyguard that takes their job seriously, I'm not getting drunk I hope you know."

"Drats. All my plans go down the drain now. How else am I going to get you to loosen up? Get a little handsy?" Dean shot him a wink and Sam just glared. Pretty soon his face is going to get stuck like that.

"I know. Such a shame. Whatever will you do in this room full of other people? Out of this massive selection and you choose to pester me. Figures."

"Can't help it. Your dazzling personality and charming wit just make you so irresistible to us innocent people. You've cast us all under this spell."

"Oh har har." Sam glared at him, "You wanted to come out here to have fun, why are you still here? Shouldn't you be out causing some massive commotion?"

"Ah yes, but it's so much more fun to bug you."

The bartender came back then, sliding two beers in front of them.

"So..Eric. How long have you been working here," Dean asked, his attention now switching from Sam to this guy. Which, admittedly, stung a little bit.

"In my life? A couple years ago. Today, five." His voice was like melted caramel, and if Dean wasn't blatantly hitting on him, Sam might've been interested. As it is, Sam was jealous. Built body, gorgeous eyes, and a voice that could make panties drop. What a perfect asshole.

Sam watched as Dean’s famous smirk crossed his lips, “Oh really now? Has anyone caught your interest, working here so long?” Dean raised his beer to his lips, maintaining eye contact with Mr. Pretty as the alcohol passed his lips. Sam watched some slip from Dean’s mouth, something he wasn’t going to identify twisting in his stomach. He’s a pro at denial, even if his fingers itched to pull Dean away and out of this bar. Why did he even come? Oh wait. Yeah. It’s his job. Damn.

Sure enough, Eric leaned forward and used a finger to get the escaping beer, putting said finger in his mouth.

“Not until now,” Eric replied with a smile that would have seduced anyone. He placed another beer in front of Dean, even though he wasn’t completely finished, before walking away. Sam felt something vile at the sight.

“Well looks like you’ve moved on from bugging me,” he remarked dryly.

“Why? Jealous? Thought you’d be relieved,” Dean joked, elbowing Sam playfully, but something in his eyes was darker, not as playful.

“Ah and now you’re back. I think I liked it better when you were talking to Eric.” No. No he did not, but he wasn’t going to think about that.

"Sure you did, you love me." Whatever was there disappeared, and Sam would dismiss it as something he imagined, but something like hope and the fact that he knew he wasn't just seeing things prevented that. Whatever. Sam could evaluate it later. It might not have been anything important anyways. Maybe it was though. Who knows? Something made him smile at the thought.

Sam was about to respond, but Dean's attention got caught by a passing redhead. Fucking redheads.

Dean glanced at him, and Sam just shrugged. _Go ahead._ It's not like he's bothered by it or anything. That'd be insane. Sam was just here to keep Dean out of trouble, so he was just going to sit here and drink this beer.

"Man, your boyfriend's quite a thing." Eric was back, leaning against the counter next to Sam, the both of them watching Dean.

"Good thing he's not my boyfriend," Sam responded, took another sip. Dean had gotten the redhead to dance with him, even got her to bring in a few friends.

"Oh?" Eric's eyes now turned to him, and the hair on the back of his head prickled at the attention.

"Yeah. Bodyguard." Sam glanced over at him now, feigning casualness despite the fact that his senses were hyper aware, _always be prepared_ and there's no worse place than a crowd to lose your ward.  And maybe trying to seem cool. Maybe.

"That's why you're so buff then, may I?" Eric gestured to the arm he was propping himself up on, bent elbow on the counter top because he was turned toward the crowd on the bar stool. Sam shrugged, and then there were slender fingers gripping his bicep, trying to touch thumb and forefinger and failing. If Sam flexed, that was between him and God. "Damn," Eric breathed out.

"Thanks, gotta-"

"Well Sammy, hitting on the bartender. How cliche." Dean interrupted Sam's sentence, fitting himself between Eric and Sam. He hadn't noticed when Dean had stopped dancing, and mentally berated himself. He couldn't let himself get distracted.

"As I remember it, you hit on him first," Sam replied,  sending an apologetic smile to Eric.

"Well, you're on the job. Aren't you not supposed to do that? You're supposed to be keeping an eye on me. Can't let yourself get distracted." Well. Dean's got him there. Sam shrugged defensively.

"I am watching you, it's kinda hard to keep track of everything in a room full of people."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, watching me so well you totally knew I was heading over here, didn't jump at all."

"Whatever," he muttered, took another drink. The bottle was still halfway full, and Sam was going to nurse it for as long as he can.

"Well, I've gotta get back to my job, and I'm sure you do too Sam. Nice meeting y'all." Eric departed with a smile and the promise of "Come back any time and I'll be here, would love to see you again." Dean just smiled politely at him and shot daggers with his eyes, and Sam gave a little wave and a soft smile.

"So what was all that about? Play nice Dean," Sam said when Eric walked away to attend to someone on the other end of the bar.

"Nothing. I'm just making sure you're doing what you're paid for." Dean shrugged casually, and Sam narrowed his eyes. Not once has Dean mentioned that Sam was his bodyguard during these past weeks. Just as he was about to say something about that, a petite brunette walked up and made a small coughing noise.

"Umm...you're Dean Winchester right?" She ducked her head, and Sam couldn't help but think how adorable it was that she was shy. She looked to be maybe just turned twenty-one, cropped short hair that complemented her olive skin. Curvy too. Yup, completely meets Dean's standards. There was a brief silence of Dean checking her out before he grinned bright and wide.

"Yup, what can I do for you?" The wink made the girl blush, and she stammered out a, "You're really amazing, could we take a picture together?"

"Anything for you," Dean replied as he wrapped an arm around the girl and brought her close, causing a squeak to spill from her lips. Sam wanted to throw up. Seriously? Doesn't Dean know having sex with fans is a terrible idea? Not that this girl would go home with Dean. Which is nice for a change. She quickly snapped a photo and scampered off to a table with expectant people.

"I need another shot," Dean decided, flagged down Eric, who complied easily.

"Dude, not too many. I don't want to deal with a baby tonight."

"I can handle my liquor, thank you very much. And anyways, that's the point of going out. I know you'd take care of me anyways. If not for me, for the sake of your own honor and job." Dean quickly drank down the shot, gestured for another one, "I'm going to get drunk even if you aren't." Sam just glared and leaned back against the counter from his seat. He liked to observe the people flowing in and out, scanned them for any potential dangerous qualities to keep his mind sharp, and then created stories around them. So far he had a cat lady who was finally convinced by an extremely exuberant best friend to go out for the first time in her life, a former astronaut who got fired because of his anger management problems, and a businessman here to escape problems from his work and wife.

"I'm going to go have fun now; I'd ask if you wanted to join me, but I already know the answer." Dean took off with that, immediately sliding up to a guy that was (Sam was betting) straight. He was right. Dean was quickly shot down, and he just moved on to a throng of girls.

Dean was sweaty and flushed, and every drink someone got him made his eyes brighten and limbs loosen more. Another sip. Dean's smile was making Sam's chest ache. He tapped his fingers against the countertop as a temporary distraction. Dean's clothes were starting to stick to his skin, those jeans impossibly tight in all the right places. Two thirds of his drink gone.

Sam sat there and watched Dean as he flirted with anything that moved, using the excuse that he's a little tipsy to get his hands everywhere, lean against whomever it is and let them touch him and feel him and dip their heads closer so it's like they're sharing a secret.

Sam took another swig.

Dean can bat his eyes like any other girl, but for some reason, when he does it it makes something prickle on the back of Sam's neck. Maybe because no girl could have those eyes, that's all Dean.

He's almost done with his one beer, can't drink more than one.

Dean's lips moving, his body pressing into this guy who's admittedly attractive, taller than Dean, with brown hair that Sam could run his fingers through, and a built body; Sam took another gulp to keep himself from getting up and pulling them apart; something like rage rolling through his veins.

Drats. He bottomed out.

Setting the bottle down with a little more force than necessary, he set a twenty down to cover his and part of Dean's drinks before swiftly moving to the bathroom. Gotta clear his head. And piss.

~

After he was done, he stayed in the bathroom a few more minutes, splashed cold water on his face. This was really getting out of hand. Fuck. Everything in Sam's life was fine and dandy until an asshole with too-green green eyes walked in. What Sam couldn't understand the most is how in hell did he fall so hard so fast? This was bullshit. He's calling bullshit on his emotions. They obviously don't know a thing.

Sam patted himself down with this affirmed determination and walked out, prepared for anything.

He lied. He was not at all prepared for this.

Dean was on a pool table (let's just repeat that to let it sink in: on a pool table) swaying his hips to the music and singing along. He didn't know the lyrics. Sam stood there in shock for two seconds before springing forward. God, he left Dean for five minutes...

Pushing through the throng of people (If not here for the fact that Dean is a partially famous rock star, then because Dean was hot. Objectively. He was hot, there was no denying it. Sam can think people are hot and have no attraction to them), Sam wanted to punch all the men ogling Dean. He barely refrained, just shoved everyone aside until he was standing in front of Dean.

"Okay, big boy, time to go." Sam reached out and grabbed Dean, tried to pull him down and Dean just fell; Sam barely caught him in time. A chorus of "aww" met his ears, and he turned around, said, "Party’s over folks, get back to it."

"Why? I just started having fun, look, these people love me!" Dean was drunk off his ass. Sam thought of the hangover he'd have tomorrow and smiled grimly. Serves him right. His hands naturally went around Sam's neck, and it was sending way too many nerves firing.

"No, Dean, it's time to go," Sam said, voice lowering into professional mode. Thank God he decided to stay sober. Dean grumbled, but didn't argue, just shifted to get more comfortable in Sam's arms. He was probably going to have to carry Dean home. Great.

Sam quickly paid Dean's remaining balance (which was pretty low with how drunk Dean was; Sam didn't want to think about how many people got Dean drinks) and hefted Dean in his arms, shouldering his way out the door.

A blast of cool air hit him, and Sam sighed in relief. It was really stuffy in there. Outside was dark now, the moon lighting the way. Sam liked the night, it was so peaceful and calming, loved the moonlight even better. This was really nice, and Sam made the mistake of looking down.

Dean was staring at him like he was a hero or something, his eyes big and bright and shining and so very vividly green. Those fucking eyes. They were so much more captivating up close. Curse whoever decided Dean Winchester would get these eyes because Sam was finding himself sucked into them. Plus his flushed cheeks, all rosy and red and completely adorable, making those freckles just pop out to make Sam's heart twist in his chest. And his fucking lips, those totally unfair fucking lips all pink and full and parted. Hot breath was skirting down his neck, and Dean shifted closer, his sinfully soft lips dragging across his skin. There was a flicker of a tongue to wet his lips, and Sam felt it brush across his skin, something stirring low in his stomach.

"You're so warm," Dean giggled, his arms squeezing tighter around Sam's neck as Dean buried himself deeper into Sam's arms. Man he was heavy. It was okay for now, but Sam knew it was going to get difficult soon.

Sam grunted, adjusting his arms to balance Dean's weight in the new position.

"So warm. And pretty. Real pretty." Dean drew the real out, made it sound like it was seven syllables long. That's what Sam decided to focus on. The rest of Dean's ramblings were irrelevant. He definitely wasn't going to think about them. Fingers were running over his cheeks, brushing over his eyes and down his nose, more tangling in his hair. Electric tingles were shooting through Sam's veins at the soft touches.

"Your eyes. They're like. All the colors. All of them. How's that work? How're you even real? And your hair. 'S so soft. Feels nice. I wanna keep you forever s' I can touch your hair." Fingers poked into Sam's cheeks. "And y'r fucking dimples. Unfair. S' unfair."

Sam had to chuckle at that, something deep in his chest, and Dean gasped, exclaimed "Woah! Do that again, feels cool," and Sam just had to comply, an actual laugh bursting out of him.

"Y'r laugh. 'S like...pure happiness. Or. Or sunshine. Like if unicorns existed. Magic." Dean was looking at him with such wonder and something Sam really didn't want to identify because if he did it would fuck things up forever and he was already too fucked up about Dean, his emotions already too much in the way. Suddenly Dean's hand was pushing his head, making him look at Dean, look into those goddamn eyes. Dean was staring him down almost with the intensity of his gaze. It was almost like he was peering into Sam's soul, and it made him uncomfortable.

"So beautiful. You're so beautiful. So fucking beautiful. Y' don' even know it either. So beautiful." Whatever was happening here needed to stop, was not a good idea. Sam knew this objectively, but those words were bouncing around through his skull, breaking through things and destroying Sam's ability to rationalize and react properly. That warm feeling from earlier was spreading all through him, made him want to do something crazy like burst into song or kiss Dean or something. And then Dean's eyes were dropping lower, his fingers tracing along Sam's lips, his bottom lip catching on the rough pad of Dean's thumb.

"Why won't you just fall for me like the rest of them?" Dean's eyes flickered back up to meet Sam's, and they were so filled with longing and sadness and this was bad very bad so bad. His breath caught, and he looked away quickly. Dean's eyes all big and shining wetly and so so fucking green with that look of complete want was making it hard to keep the words ‘ _I did. I did. I completely did Dean.’_ from spilling out into the air. Sam's heart was twisting inside his chest, beating hard and fast, making him want to do something really really crazy like kiss Dean. Dean's fingers left Sam's mouth to wrap back around his neck, and Sam barely noticed. He was too lost in his thoughts to really register Dean's little snuffling noises, content and happy and completely over the huge bomb he just dropped. Dean's mumbling something, can feel the rush of breath down his neck and the brush of those fucking lips but Sam really can't hear over the rushing in his ears. This wasn't good. No it was terrible and Sam should really forget about this entire night if he's going to try and keep his job.

The words were repeating in Sam's brain. "Why won't you just fall for me like the rest of them?" That look on Dean's face. Completely wistful. The feeling of Dean burying his face in the crook of Sam's neck, snuggling closer. The feeling of Dean brushing up against him in the bar, the random touching that drove Sam nuts. Dean's soft snores against Sam's skin. Complete dead weight and Sam would carry it forever if he could. The flirting Dean did all night and Sam's irrational want to punch everyone Dean looked at. The way he looked when he was flushed and excited and so very drunk. Dean, asleep in Sam's arms, leaving him to deal with his entire world tilted off its axis because of him.

The asshole.

Sam adjusted his grip again to relieve some of the ache in his muscles, and sighed quietly. He was in so far over his head.

His muscles were starting to burn, but he didn't even register it, so lost in his thoughts. From the start Dean was annoying and didn't take anything seriously, cracked jokes and flirted constantly. Sam disliked him immediately, was never one to enjoy the antics of others.

So why was his heart doing back flips in his chest? Why does the thought of Dean make something warm spread through Sam? When did this change? It started a while ago, Sam knew that.

Living in the same house (per the norm with bodyguards and their wards) people get close, and he quickly discovered that Dean wasn't just a joke. The first time was probably when he saw Dean and the kitten.

Dean had gone ahead of him, so he was catching up when he spotted Dean sitting on the ground. At first he was confused, but then he heard cooing noises and saw a little bundle of calico fur trying to crawl up Dean's chest. Instead of the usual glint in Dean's eyes, they were soft; the tease on his face was replaced by a gentleness Sam didn't know Dean was capable of. It wasn't that Dean was an asshole, it was just that he always took things as a joke, like life was one big comedy starring him. He didn't think Dean had it in him to be vulnerable. And God, that little smile that played at Dean's lips made Sam's entire heart melt.

"Hey what are you doing? You adventurous little thing, you're going to hurt yourself." Even Dean's voice was soft, his fingers deftly scooping the kitten up and bringing it up to his face, booping their noses and laughing when the kitten meowed and tried to grab his face.

"You know it could have fleas right?" Sam walked up then, couldn't watch anymore or this feeling in him might burst out. Dean had quickly stood up, and Sam just chuckled, crouched down to pet the soft thing. The kitten rubbed into his hand, batting at his fingers.

"It likes you. Probably attracted to you because it thinks you're a girl with all your long hair."

"Funny, Dean." It had now wandered over to Dean, rubbing up against his leg and purring.

"Yeah, well, we can't just leave it here," Dean said, scooping it up into his arms. Sam saw how his body relaxed.

"And what do you suppose we do?"

"Well there's a shelter nearby, we can go there. And a small kitten is sure to attract some girl. It'll get adopted in no time."

"Okay then, lead the way."

The entire walk to the shelter, Dean cradled the kitten against his chest, scritched its head and laughed when it tried to climb up his shirt. Dean watched the kitten and Sam watched Dean. There was just something about seeing this six foot man being so gentle with something that fit into his palm easily. Sam hadn't seen this side of Dean before, all the lines softened in his face.

"What? Do I have something on my face? It's just a kitten, sheesh. It's not like I just saved the world or something," Dean finally grumbled, shifting uncomfortably under Sam's gaze and body tensing up.

"No, no. It's sweet. Who woulda thought Dean had a soft side?" he grinned, nudging Dean's shoulder with his own. Dean started to glare up at him, probably about to shove the kitten into Sam's hands, but he caught Sam's eyes and stopped, sighing quietly. He saw the _It's okay, I'm not going to judge you_ in them.

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up," he muttered, tucking the kitten closer and rubbing his thumb across the squirming body. Sam caught the smile on Dean's face out of the corner of his eye.

"You know, I pegged you as more of a dog person," Sam said, reaching over to pet the kitten's head.

"Well, you learn something new every day. I'll bet you're a dog person though."

"Ah, you caught me. Grew up with three dogs. How else would I have perfected my puppy-dog eyes?"

"I never thought of that," Dean laughed. This was one of the first times they actually got along, talked like they were good friends. Sam understood that if he were to make fun of Dean for this, it would break the tentative thing forming between them. Dean was one of those people who needed to feel manly, and he understood that even if he wasn't like that. And anyways, this was really cute.

When they reached the shelter and Dean handed the purring kitten over, Sam could see the small longing in his eyes. The girl at the counter kept staring at Dean and blushing, and Sam kinda didn't blame her.

They bantered the rest of the day, but Sam couldn't get the picture of Dean and the kitten out of his mind.

Yeah. That was definitely when the feeling first made itself known.

Plus, sometimes, when it was really, really late at night and Dean had convinced Sam to stay up and watch a movie with him, he'll get sleepy and curl up against Sam. His head will rest on Sam's shoulder and his legs would be tucked up or across Sam's lap. Sam really treasured those moments when Dean was tired enough to not care about the fact that he was basically cuddling (and who he was cuddling with at that) and it was late enough at night that Sam let it slide, just rolled with it. Anyways, Dean would be almost asleep, if not asleep already, and Sam was chivalrous enough to support him at these vulnerable moments. It's not like it happened often. He could indulge if he wanted.

God, Dean was really adorable. He had this macho front and acted like he was a sex god or something, but he was really just a sweetheart. It was every cliche ever. He just. He makes Sam laugh. And want to wring the life out of him.

He makes Sam happy.

At that realization, Sam decided he wasn't going to think about this anymore.

~

Finally, Sam reached the apartment. He got a few strange looks on the elevator, but there weren't many people up at this time of night, so that was good. Why Dean had to be on such a high floor Sam will never know, probably some weird status thing. The view was a lot better though. And at least they weren't on the top floors.

When he finally reached the room, Sam fumbled for a moment, managed to lean back enough to keep Dean from falling immediately as he quickly snaked the keys out of his back pocket. He grabbed Dean just as he was about to slip off, and then opened the door. Kicking it shut softly, he hefted Dean up a little so he could lock the door.

Bypassing the light switch (he could see perfectly fine anyways, there was a lot of moonlight), he entered Dean's room and set Dean down on the bed. Sam pulled Dean's shoes and socks off, and after a brief moment of _shit should I really do that_ , he pulled Dean's jeans off and unbuttoned his flannel, leaving him in his boxers so he would be more comfortable. Sam definitely didn't rest his hand on Dean's thigh or slide it down his muscular calf, his eyes definitely didn't linger on Dean's chest, and he definitely didn't have a brief fantasy about licking down his muscles, teasing those nipples till they were flaming and hard and bitten sore or about pressing kisses down his stomach and licking into his navel, making Dean squirm under him. Haha nope not at all.

He tucked Dean in and rushed out of the room as quickly as possible.

As he lay in his own bed, a wall separating his and Dean's room, he briefly thought _Fuck I'm in love with Dean_ before everything went dark.

~

Sam blinked awake blearily the next morning, his internal body clock set to wake up early every day. His dream last night...it was nice. Too nice. It made Sam's heart hurt a little because he wanted it so bad.

It started out just he and Dean on the couch like they normally are, but this time Dean was fully awake and curled up against him, basically sitting in Sam's laps, their legs entwined and Sam's head on Dean's shoulder. The position gave Sam a large expanse of neck to play with, and he fully abused the power, sucking hickies on Dean's skin the entire time. Not like they were really paying attention to the movie, more on making out like two horny teenagers.

Then it switched, and he and Dean were laying on a blanket on a hill. Clouds were rolling by and Dean was spilling crumbs all over his shirt because he refused to sit up to eat, and they were pointing out funny looking clouds.

"That one looks like a baby with a duck bill on steroids," Dean said around a mouthful of pie.

"You come up with the strangest descriptions," Sam chuckled, leaned over to press a kiss to the corner of Dean's lips and lick away some cherry smear.

"You love it," he hummed, swallowed and pulled Sam more firmly on top of him, sticky fingers buried in Sam's hair.

"Hey! No getting my hair all sticky and gross." Sam jerked away, sat up to grab a cookie and drink some water.

"We could shower together." Dean winked and waggled his eyebrows, to which Sam laughed and laid back down. A small daisy was growing on one side of the blanket, and Sam deftly picked it, rolling over on his side to face Dean and tucking it behind Dean's ear.

"For you m'lady," he said.

And then Sam had woken up, interrupting the special moment. He kinda wanted to go back to sleep just so he could finish the dream, but he knew that was a bad idea.

Groaning, he kicked his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, the floor cold to his feet. He quickly got dressed in some sweats and his Stanford sweatshirt, throwing on some thick socks as well. The floor was pretty damn cold.

The rest of the house was quiet, and he could bet that Dean was either still sleeping, or trying to actually function with the massive hangover he'll have. Sam chuckled to himself about that and brewed some coffee, filling the pot up halfway. Who knows how much Dean'll need.

Sipping at his own cup of coffee, he pulled out some eggs and bacon. Something greasy and something light, perfect. Dean may deserve the pain, but Sam wasn't going to let him suffer too much.

Sam had just poured the eggs into the pan when Dean rushed out of his bedroom, running straight to the bathroom. Ah, yes. It has begun.

He tried to ignore the noises of Dean’s retching, just kept cooking. The spray of the shower started up, and Sam chuckled, picturing Dean looking like a wet, angry dog. And definitely not naked. No sir. Not at all.

By the time Dean came out from the bathroom, Sam had a plate of food ready for him and a large cup of coffee sitting next to the Advil.

“I hate everything. This is hell. Are you Satan, because then everything makes sense. Pain. Eternal pain. Fuck, why did I drink so much?” were the first things out of his mouth.

"You look like shit," Sam said cheerily, propped up against the sink with his own plate. He ignored Dean’s comments entirely, this was his own damn fault.

Dean sank into his chair. "Fuck you," he rasped, but looked at Sam gratefully when he downed a pill with a large gulp of coffee. He groaned and thumped his head down on the table, rubbing at his temple.

"I don't think you're actually capable of that right now," Sam replied, gesturing for Dean to eat. It would definitely help him.

"Try me," Dean quipped before thinking, and then blushed crimson. He quickly shoveled some food into his mouth and gave Sam a thumbs up. Halfway through his plate, he seemed better. Still winced when he moved his head too fast, but it was progress.

"Serves you right, do you even know what a little shit you were?"

"I was amazing, shush. You love being in my company."

"Sure," Sam scoffed, but the smiles on both their faces made the words more endearing.

"Thanks for breakfast, you're a perfect wife," Dean toasted, took another large sip of coffee and stumbled up to refill his cup.

"It's the least I could do, I wasn't lying when I said you looked like shit." He really wasn't. Dean had been gaunt and pale, haggard looking. It had activated Sam's instinct to protect. Thankfully he was looking more like himself now, awake and alert and alive. The color was back in his cheeks and his eyes weren't bloodshot. Plus his hair had almost dried completely by now.

"Shut up," Dean laughed, took another large gulp of coffee and moaned appreciation, "Bless the world for coffee."

"I agree," Sam said as he finished his cup off. A weighted silence set in as he set his dishes in the sink, the familiar banter fading. He washed his dishes as Dean finished his cup of coffee, and they both stewed over last night. When Dean finished drinking his coffee, he brought his dishes over to the sink, and Sam shifted over to let him in. The both of them worked in sync, shoulders brushing as Sam handed over a plate and Dean washed it off. They dried the dishes off the same, reaching around each other in perfect tandem, moving around each other like they knew exactly what the other was going to do, all the other's tells. They kinda did. Sam didn't want to say the totally cliche "It was like an invisible bond connecting us," so he just wasn't going to say anything.

When they finished, Sam leaned back against the counter again. What now? Dean glanced at him, something like an invitation in his eyes, before making his way to the living room. Sam knew his choice was important. Going after Dean would mean he's accepting, taking up Dean's offer on whatever it is. It was a bad idea. Sam should just stay here. He followed.

The shutters had been pulled close for Dean's sake, but small slivers of sunlight snaked through, lit up the room a little bit. It casted a blue hue, like the early-in-the-morning-on-a-cloudy-day blue. Dean was standing in the middle of the room, waiting, and Sam stopped. Here they were, the both of them, standing in the middle of the room, facing each other. Sam played with the string on his sweatshirt. Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Only feet apart, but it might as well have been miles.

"Hey...umm...just. Just forget about last night. Okay? I'm. I'm sorry about all that," Dean said quietly, staring at his feet. He shuffled, and Sam stared at his feet too. What was so interesting about them? Really nothing except they were attached to Dean. You know, why do people have foot fetishes? Well obviously because they like feet. But feet are kinda weird. At least Sam's are. He doesn't really like his feet, but then again, really, who does?

Dean got more agitated as Sam kept thinking random things and _not saying anything._ His fingers twitched and he fisted them at his sides to keep them from moving. Sam tracked the movement, tracked how Dean's breathing picked up slightly. He must be really nervous. Or something. Which yeah. Makes sense. Sam should probably say something, but what the hell is he supposed to say? Yeah, you basically just asked me to love you back and the thing is I do. I do way too much and this isn't good because you're my ward and I'll lose my job and I think if I say something everything will spill out and I won't be able to keep my hands to myself anymore. You drive me insane and I’m a goddamn professional but I'm ready to be completely unprofessional with you despite the fact that you're an asshole who only has one night stands and so not only will I lose my job but I know this is going to hurt in the end. Especially if I let myself have that taste, that chance, knowing exactly what it's like and then never getting it again. Because it's not just some dumb crush anymore as much as he wished it was and everything was getting fucked up inside him because this is sliding quickly into something much more than just one goddamn simple crush. Yeah, that would go over real well.

"C'mon Sammy. Say something? Please? Don't. Don’t leave me hanging here." Dean looked up then, Sam could see it in the shift of his body, but he didn't look up. Focused on the amulet hanging around Dean’s neck. Why hasn't he taken it off yet?

"It's Sam you jerk."

"Bitch," Dean laughed, and Sam had to look up at that. Had to look up because Dean's smile was beautiful and it made Sam smile and Dean's laugh was just. Indescribable what it did to Sam. How he felt about it. How he felt about Dean. It's like jumping off the really high board. It's scary as hell and there's butterflies making him want to rip his stomach out and it could be super fucking painful, but it has the chance to be something exhilarating. And so he found himself chuckling along to Dean's bright smile.

The laughter died down eventually, and then it was just Sam staring at Dean, Dean staring at Sam, the two of them standing there, facing each other, and staring at each other. The butterfly feelings were back and Sam really hated them. Made everything too adrenaline filled and fluttery and he just wanted it out. Dean has really nice crow's eyes. They crinkled when he laughed and Sam liked that. It's hard in this light, but Sam knew there were freckles dusting across his nose and cheeks. His hair wasn't all spiked up because Dean hadn't had the brainpower to actually manage doing his hair this morning without pain, and Sam kinda really liked it. Wanted to run his hands through it, but Sam always wanted that. If he just kept cataloging Dean then he could ignore how the air was getting heavier, the moment more intense, something serious starting up.

"But seriously. Just. Forget about it. It was just the drinks talking." Dean's eyes were really captivating. Has Sam mentioned that before? They were this vivid electric green, and it was kinda like they glowed in this light. And currently they were piercing into Sam, seriously. It was piercing. Made Sam almost shudder. It was intense, begging Sam but also with a hint of a challenge and just. Intense. His eyes were glowing but they were dark, daring, and how in the hell does that work? Honestly Sam was convinced Dean was magic or something. Unicorns.

"What if I don't want to?" The words were spilling from Sam's mouth before he could tell them not to. He really isn't to blame, he can't be in full control of what he says with Dean looking at him like _that_. And now those glowing eyes darkened even more, and Sam was reminded of the thing with cat eyes, the reflective surface in the back and if you get them in the right light at night it glows. And for some reason Sam was feeling a lot like a mouse.

Dean was moving then, and now Sam could see those freckles, could count the crow's eye lines. The wetting of his lips, a flick of a tongue and Sam was tracking the motion, his eyes dropping to those fucking _sinful_ lips. Full and plump and pink and parted just that bit.

"Yeah?" A word breathed out, a whisper against Sam's skin. And then Sam was trying to find his breath because Dean's lips were really, really, really soft against his and Dean's hands were curling into his hair and pulling him down to make the kiss more comfortable. A frustrated huff and the words "You gotta kiss back Sam" said against his lips and then Sam was unfrozen, shifting into action. One hand went to curl into his hair (and yup it was as soft as Sam thought it would be, if a bit wet still), and the other pressed in tight to the small of Dean's back, pressing their bodies tight against each other. Sam's lips were moving, controlling, pushing against Dean's, and Dean gave a little whimper of surprise and unexpected delight before melting into Sam's touch, molding his lips to the hard press of Sam's, opening up to let Sam's tongue slip in.

A thrill went through Sam at the easy complacency of Dean, and he growled, bit down on Dean's lip, sucked it into his mouth harshly. Dean was making these delicious noises, trying to press Sam's face closer, and he could feel himself getting hard in his jeans. They were moving, Sam wasn't sure if he was pushing Dean or Dean was pulling, but it didn't really matter because Dean's lips were on his and his tongue was exploring Dean's mouth, licking the taste of eggs out until all there was was the taste of Dean.

The both of them were panting, and Sam had to pull off because he was getting light-headed, had to remember to breathe. A quick glance at the surroundings, and Sam found out they had stumbled into Dean's room. He was surprised they didn't knock anything over, but maybe they did. Sam wasn't really sure. Hard to pay attention to anything else but Dean.

"There's lube and a condom in the top drawer," Dean managed to say, pulling back only to take his and Sam's shirt off. Sam's mind stuttered, not only because more of Dean's skin was being revealed, although that did contribute.

"Woah, wait. Are you sure you want to?" Sam's entire body screamed yes, wanted to have Dean trembling and whining on his dick underneath him, wanted to see Dean as he fell apart, wanted to have that incredibly intimate (and hot) moment.

"I swear to God if I don't get your dick inside my ass soon I will probably spontaneously combust of sexual frustration," he growled as he quickly yanked his sweats down, pulled at Sam's belt until it slipped out. Lust shot through Sam's body, and he quickly pulled his jeans and boxers off in one go, pressed Dean back into the mattress.

"Fuck, you're definitely proportional," Dean gasped, his eyes wide, pupils blown so wide there was only a tiny sliver of green.

"Hey, if you want to stop I understand," Sam said, stopped reaching for said drawer with the lube.

"No, no, God no. C'mon, you're so slow." Dean was staring at Sam's cock, free from it's confines and straining upward. He licked his lips, and Sam had a million thoughts of what exactly those lips could do. Fuck, Dean was going to be the death of him. He just pulled the lube out, went back to sucking Dean's tongue into his mouth. Dean managed to hook his fingers in the waistband of his boxers and slide them off, Sam's fingers greedily brushing across Dean's hipbones.

Sam’s fingers gripped impossibly tight (probably would form a bruise by morning) when Dean bit down on his lip and rolled his hips up against Sam’s, grinding their cocks together. A stuttered moan fell from both of their lips, and Sam pulled away to gasp against Dean’s neck.

Dean whined when Sam started to bite down his neck, his legs wrapping around Sam’s waist to pull him closer, provide more friction.

“Needy little cockslut aren't you? Tell me, what is it that you want?” Sam panted out, sucked a mark on Dean’s collarbone. His fingers traveled deeper into the V of Dean’s hipbones, brushing across the hair there.

“I swear to God, Sam,” Dean panted out, his voice breathy and light. Sam just growled against Dean’s skin, moving down to lick at Dean’s nipple softly, felt it pebble under his ministrations.

“Say it Dean, tell me what you want or I can't give you it.” Sam grinned wickedly, tongue flicking across the nipple before sucking it into his mouth.

“Never thought you’d be so fucking toppy, or kinky at that,” Dean gasped out, his back arching in response to Sam’s mouth. Biting down hard, Sam finally got to Dean’s leaking member and ran his fingers up it lightly before gripping it down at the base. Dean let out a high-pitched whine and his thighs tightened around Sam.

“Fuck, fuck, your cock. Dammit Sam I need your cock,” Dean begged, his hips jerking in Sam’s grasp and trying to get Sam to fucking _move_ his hand. A bright blush travelled up his body at the words, how adorable. Sex-god Dean getting blushy like a virgin when he has to beg for Sam. That fact made something twist deep inside him, made his hand clench a little tighter and Dean moan in response.

“That wasn't so hard was it now?” Sam said, his voice gravelly and low, pulling off of Dean’s chest to admire his handiwork. One nipple was bright, fire red, hard and aching; the other was soft and pink. Time to change that. He plucked at Dean’s other nipple with his fingers as he kissed lower on Dean’s body, tongue delving into his navel and biting just below it. “Where do you want it Dean?” He said sweetly, batted his eyes up at Dean. Dean's head was thrown back in pleasure, everything flushed red and sweaty, but he looked up at Sam’s words.

“You’ve got to be shitting me, come on Sam. Don't play dumb, I know you're a fucking genius. You went to Stanford for fuck’s sake,” Dean griped, his face a mix of turned on and irritated. When Sam let his fist slowly pump up Dean and flick a thumb tight across his head, Dean’s head fell back again with a thump, a strangled moan making its way out of his throat. “Fuck Sam. Jesus need your cock inside me, fucking hell just fuck me. Please, Sammy, fuck me.”

Sam grinned triumphantly at the rushed words, sat up to lather his fingers in lube. "So needy Dean," he teased, let his hand slowly jerk Dean off as he trailed his other fingers down past Dean's balls, rubbing at his hole softly.

"Fuck you, Sam, you're such a fucking cocktease," Dean panted out, fingers scrabbling in Sam's hair to pull him up and press their lips together like a starving man finally getting his first meal.

"No, it's fuck you," Sam laughed, pressed his finger in just the slightest and caught Dean's moan in his mouth.

"Then fucking get on with it then," Dean whined, pressed down onto Sam's fingers.

"There's this thing called prep, I'm not going to hurt you," he insisted, pushed his finger in against the resistance as he thumbed the space under Dean's head. The way Dean clenched and arched into his touch made Sam grin triumphantly. Yeah. He was doing this to Dean. Him. To Dean. Suck it world.

God and the noises Dean made, the way he looked with his eyes closed and his mouth open in pants and his hands fisting in the sheets, fuck. Dean really was trying to kill him.

He rubbed his finger inside Dean, looking for that one spot that- Dean let out an incoherent noise and a sharp gasp of "Sam!" His cock jerked at that, and now he couldn't wait to get inside Dean, needed to feel that tight clench around his own member. He nudged a second finger next to his first one, pressed that in in one slow motion, and Dean writhed above him. Dean was fucking gorgeous spread out under him, and he leaned down to suck at Dean's neck, litter more bites there.

"God, you're gonna be so big," Dean moaned, shifting his hips to get Sam to move his fingers, fuck him on those two. Sam's cock was leaking, begging to be touched, and he slowly ground it down into the mattress to give a small relief from the burning urge to just fucking come already.

"One more finger," Sam promised, his own voice alien to him, breathless. Well yeah, he was so turned on it was hurting currently. Dean didn't seem to be doing much better, alternating between rocking himself up into Sam's hand and down onto his fingers.

"Sam, I'm ready, please, the next one," Dean gasped, and Sam groaned, nudged at Dean to lift his legs. Dean complied easily, his hands gripping the back of his knees, his cheeks parting for Sam so easily. Dean was stretched around two of Sam's fingers, his hole already puffy and red, and Sam couldn't help the strangled moan that left his lips, the way his hips involuntarily ground down into the sheets. God. And soon, that tiny hole was going to be stretched around _him._

The thought shot straight to Sam's cock, and he quickly poured some more lube onto his third finger, nudged it at Dean's opening. Dean's cock jerked in Sam's hand, and Sam followed the plea immediately, watched as Dean opened up to accept the third finger up to the first knuckle. Sam shallowly fucked Dean with the other two, rubbed his thumb at the stretched rim, waiting for the muscle to relax enough for him to slide it in a little farther.

When he finally slid it all the way in to Dean, the both of them groaned. Sam let Dean adjust, let the burn fade away before he started moving them, spreading them a little bit and pistoning them in and out of Dean.

"Ready for me?" Sam growled, rubbed his cock next to Dean's.

"Please," Dean cried out, bucking his hips into Sam's thrusts. Pulling his fingers out, he watched Dean's hole gape open for him, and he rubbed his head at it, let it catch on the rim. "Do it," Dean begged, opening his eyes and looking at Sam, his pupils blown so fucking wide. He complied easily, pressed into Dean slowly, stopping when his entire head fit in. Sam moaned loudly, Dean so fucking tight around him, and he knew he wasn't going to last long. Not when he'd been needing this so long, not when Dean was clenching around him and letting out a strangled cry.

"Fuck, do you think I could make you come just off of this? Just on my dick?" Sam gasped, rocking his hips into Dean shallowly. Dean just whimpered, clenched around Sam, and Sam's hips jerked into Dean a little farther. When the shocks of pleasure faded away a little, Sam pressed in a little more, shallow little thrusts until he bottomed out.

"Holy fuck," he gasped out, resting his head on Dean's shoulder and barely resisting the urge to fuck Dean senseless. It seemed like Dean agreed with him when he let go of his legs and wrapped them tightly around Sam, feet pressing into Sam's ass and holding him inside Dean.

Finally Dean grunted out a "Fucking move already" and Sam went into action, pulling out and snapping his hips back in. Pleasure was clouding his brain, and he wasn't sure if he was actually breathing it felt so good. Sam picked up the pace, the both of them so close already. The sounds of their moans and bodies slapping together filled the air, and Sam knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

"Fucking hell, so fucking good," he gasped out, and Dean chuckled in response, something that meant  _Yeah I know, I got a sweet ass_ , but the both of them were so far gone that neither of them could formulate words.

Quickly, Sam grasped Dean in his hand again, pumping him fast and hard to the thrusts of his hips. He was hitting Dean's prostate dead on now, and Dean writhed on the bed under him, fingernails scratching down his back (probably leaving marks) with the pleasure.

Sam pressed his thumb to the sensitive underside of Dean's head as he snapped his hips, and Dean cried out, yelled Sam's name as he came, spilling across Sam's hand. Somehow he managed to tighten around Sam, and Sam followed right after, crying out against Dean's skin. He kept fucking into Dean, milking them both through it, his hips jerking out of rhythm.

Sam pulled out when they finished, pulled the condom off and tied it before throwing it into a corner, his mind turned to putty. It made a little squelching noise, and Dean whimpered a little.

"My ass is going to be wrecked tomorrow, you're fucking huge." Making a content little noise, Sam just rolled over to the side of Dean and pulled him close in response, everything in a post-orgasmic haze. He was sated and happy and had Dean in his arms, what more could he ever ask for?

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, but couldn't stop smiling. He ran his hand up and down Dean's chest methodically, fingertips trailing lightly.

"Mmm, don't be. Don't think I've come that hard in a while." Dean brought his hand up to Sam's hair, buried his hands in it.

"Oh? Better than all your previous conquests?" A little bit of the jealousy and defensiveness seeped into his voice, and Dean's arm tightened around him.

"Well, I haven't had one in a while. Just me and m' hand for a couple weeks now. But yes," Dean chuckled, and something settled inside Sam at that, made him smile.

"You and your hand, hmm? Mind if I watch sometime?" He chuckled darkly, flicked his finger over one of Dean's raw nipples, and Dean hissed.

"Dude, way too sensitive right now. Maybe another time, but it is not the time to think about sex, horndog."

"Oh? But aren't you the sex god? You, telling me, not to think about sex. I'm sorry, excuse me as I cry of laughter."

"Shut up, you're not the one that had a monster cock shoved up your ass. Which reminds me, I feel fucking disgusting. Go get a wet towel." Dean pushed at Sam's shoulder, and Sam groaned.

"But I don't wanna move," he whined petulantly, but got up anyways. "And then next time you'll just have to shove your monster cock up my ass."

"Promise?" Dean grinned, and Sam just laughed and shook his head, going to the bathroom to run a towel under warm water. He wiped himself off while he was there, and then padded back to Dean. Wiping Dean down slowly, he let his eyes wander over Dean's body and drink him in. He really was beautiful. So beautiful. Like some god decided to sculpt him. His thumb rubbed across Dean's skin, and he caught Dean's eyes as he let his hand run down Dean's body. His fingers touched and explored every inch of Dean, lips following after, the both of them just staring into each other's eyes. 

Sam pressed kisses up Dean's body, starting at the balls of his feet and running up his calves and then thighs, pressed chaste kisses to the already-forming bruises. His lips brushed across Dean's stomach, travelled up his chest. They caressed Dean's neck, and he peppered Dean's face in soft kisses, one on Dean's nose and over his forehead and dusting across his cheeks. Dean was staring up at him, and he cradled Dean's head in one hand, falling into Dean's eyes. It could've been mere seconds of that, or eternities, Sam wasn't really sure. He didn't really care. Dean was looking at him with this look in his eyes and Sam felt himself hand over his entire heart to Dean. It was way too late for him now. There was no coming back from this, but Sam was sure if he burned, he would burn smiling.

Gently, Sam pressed his lips to Dean's, looking at him the entire time. His eyes held worlds, just a myriad of green. If Sam could paint, he would paint Dean's eyes because there was nothing that could compare in beauty. Their eyes fluttered shut when Dean responded, his tongue coming out to lick at Sam's lip, and Sam opened up gratefully for him.

Sam fell asleep with Dean in his arms and on his tongue and forever etched into his heart.

~

When Sam woke up it was really warm. It was really warm and he felt really content and someone was in his arms. He hadn't slept with anyone in far too long, but always loved cuddling.

Blinking his eyes open slowly, a lazy smile on his face, he finally saw who it was in his arms. Shit. He blinked once, twice, and remembered everything from the night before. Shitshitshit.

Dean was soft in his arms, small, but everyone was to Sam. His long lashes fanned across freckled skin, his lips parted slightly and oh so pretty. Dean's hair was sticking out and flat in points, and it wasn't the most attractive thing, but Sam's heart did a little wiggle at it anyways.

Once Sam stopped focusing on Dean's face, he saw that Dean was still naked. And so was he. The sheet had ridden down low because Sam's body heat had made it unnecessary, and and the jut of Dean's hipbone peeped out, some small bruises in the shape of Sam's fingerprints dusting across them.

Fuck.

The sunlight was golden, the sun going down and lighting the sky up in a myriad  of colors. It cast shadows in the crevices of Dean's body, made everything angular and so so beautiful. Fuck. He's so beautiful.

Sleep made Dean look softer, younger, more peaceful. Sam wanted to kiss his crow's nests, press his lips across his skin until he reached Dean's lips. Wanted to hold Dean like this until he woke up, wanted Dean to blink up at him slowly before smiling, reach up and press their lips together. Sam wanted so many things he could never have.

Quietly, Sam slipped out of Dean's grasp, pulling the sheet up to keep him warm. It was darkening quickly, and he grabbed his clothes before going out to the kitchen. The rest of the rooms were dark, and he shrugged on a light jacket because goosebumps were raising on his skin.

A quick glance into the fridge provided Sam what to make for dinner, and he started to boil a pot of water for spaghetti. If he had meat, he'd probably cook that and add it to the jar of marinara sauce for flavor, but Dean didn't have much cookable food. So plain sauce would just have to do.

Dean padded out when Sam was straining the noodles, sat down at the table and just watched Sam work. Garlic bread would be nice, but Dean doesn't have bread nor garlic. He's got the butter at least. Maybe pesto sauce would be nice. If he could make the sauce the way he'd like, he would add meat and tomatoes and bell pepper and onion. And some wine would probably work well. Except all Dean had was beer. Sam thought about all the things he could cook so he wouldn't think about the weight of Dean's eyes on him, the silence making the air thick.

He slid a plate over to Dean, set his own plate on the other side of the table before grabbing silverware, napkins, and two beers; beer will just have to do.

They ate in silence, both of them trying to ignore the elephant in the room. Sam critiqued his cooking, thought about what to do tomorrow, stared at his hands. The seconds ticked on.

"Are we going to talk about what happened?" Dean's voice was quiet, but with only the sounds of them eating to break the silence so far, Sam could hear it as if Dean had yelled it across the table. The dreaded question. If only they could just forget what happened entirely; then they wouldn't be in this mess and it wouldn't feel like the awkward morning after. Yet Sam didn't want to forget, wanted to remember every feeling and sound and taste forever.

"What is there to say? I broke one of the most important rules in the business. What am I supposed to tell my boss if he finds out? Please don't fire me, I couldn't help it, Dean was just too damn perfect? Too fucking alluring with his fucking smirk and those eyes and turns out he's not a complete fucking asshole, plus he has freckles and then he just kinda grows on you? Trust me, get saddled with him for a month and you'll be falling in love too?

"Oh and not only that because it'd be fine if it was just a small crush, just a little flutter in the stomach, but then you find out you feel like smiling after you've argued with him for the thirtieth time that day and the entirety of your heart leaps into your throat when he looks at you and that flutter becomes a tornado; your stomach drops to your feet every time he smiles. Trust me, sir, no one would be able to resist. No one ever seems to resist anyways, he flirts with everyone in sight that looks decently attractive, and they all seem to fall for it just the same, and you really wish you could judge them for it but you realize that's exactly what's happening to you.

"And then you realize it's never going to stop, he's not going to stop, he doesn't settle down. And you know this is going to end in heartbreak, really, you're just trying to hold on till the end of the month because maybe then you can make it out with everything intact. Then you fuck all of that up by sleeping with him. And just-" Sam cut off there, realized he'd basically just spilled everything, literally just shouted it all at Dean. "Fuck," he sighed, sat back down because apparently sometime in there he got agitated enough to stand up. And Dean had just sat through it all, hadn't said a word-not even a joke. Dean still wasn't saying anything, was just sitting there looking at him.

The silence grew more tense as it stretched on, and Sam was ready to just get up and leave. He couldn't sit here after he told Dean essentially everything he was worried about, had thought during these couple of weeks. Couldn't do it.

"So you think I'm perfect." Dean's words interrupted Sam's planning of moving to China and living there for the rest of eternity. Of course. Of course that's the first thing Dean would say, and Sam couldn't help but chuckle at that. He couldn't help a lot of things when they involved Dean. "Because, you know, I think I'm pretty damn amazing, but perfect? Not quite there yet. After all, I should've done this a lot sooner."

 _What in the hell could 'this' be?_ Sam glanced up just in time to catch Dean's lips on his own, Dean's hand curling in his hair and tipping his head back, Dean's other hand cupping Sam's cheek, Dean's thumb rubbing circles on his cheekbone, Dean's tongue tangling with his own.

Sam also couldn't help the small gasp he let out. It drew on for a while, Sam in shock at first, but then he finally got the hang of it and buried his hand in Dean's short hair, the other gripping his waist. It was slow and almost sickly sweet, Sam could practically taste the sugar on Dean's lips. Nothing like before. This was the suckle on a bottom lip, the slick slide of tongues, the careful exploration of every bump and curve of each other's mouths. It was where Sam got so used to Dean's taste that he didn't taste anything anymore.

Minutes, days, years, eternities later, they pulled apart. At this point, Dean was in Sam's lap; his arms were dangling around Sam's neck and his legs wrapped around the chair. The room was filled with silence except for their labored breathing, their breath intermingling in the air between them, foreheads pressed together and mouths close enough to brush against if either of them said something.

Sam panted quietly, his hands loosening and tightening on Dean's waist. He needed a breather; his heart was racing too fast and his everything was flushed and tingling, nerves dancing around inside him. He needed a moment to think, too, about what just happened. What was going to happen with their unspoken confessions to each other just hanging in the air and in their memories. Well, spoken but not the actual confessions. Words and actions that implied the "I love you a whole fucking lot, please let's try to have a future together because I can see it so vividly and I really want to spend the rest of my life with you. Or at least find out if that's a plausible want." Maybe not those exact words, but something similar.

"We really should've done that a lot sooner," Dean managed to gasp out after minutes of them just sitting there, trying to make sense of the world now.

Sam hummed. "I can come up with a list of things we really should've done sooner, starting with this." Rolling his hips up against Dean's hard on, he swallowed Dean's breathy little moan greedily. Sam's cock definitely agreed with his idea.

"I agree." Dean's voice was gravelly. Sam wondered briefly about what was to come with the end of his month having Dean as his ward. That was going to be something he was going to have to discuss with Dean. Later. Right now Dean was leading him to Sam's bedroom, "time to christen that bed" all that Dean said.

As he was being pushed onto the bed, Sam answered his own question. It doesn't really matter what happens in the future as long as he's got Dean with him. That was the last fully rational and intelligent thought he had that night.

~End~

Funny Blurb That Isn’t Canon at All Because I Wanted To: 

"Oh shit, Dean, what about the food?"

"Fucking leave it."

"We can't just leave the food out, it'll stick to the plates and be hell to wash off and then we won't have leftovers and you already don't have enough food."

"You have your dick up my ass and you're concerned about dishes."

"Well gee, I'm sorry I'm too responsible, kinda a requirement for the job you know."

"..."

"Okay, okay. Obviously not the most responsible."

"I guess I'll just have to get your mind off of it a different way."

"Oh God yes please always get my mind off of things that way."

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this was for the SPN Writer’s Challenge and I got the trope bodyguard AU a month ago. It was due about a week and a few days ago, but I wasn’t finished and so (thank god for understanding people) they let me push the deadline back. What was supposed to be just a small fic, not even 5,000 words (I remember I checked the word count and almost fell off of my chair when I realized it had hit the 5,000 mark) turned into an almost 13k fic. Yeah. I actually did fall off my chair when I checked the word count and saw that. 
> 
> Man thank god for my friend Jenna who read through this entire thing while I was writing it and gave me the much-needed inspiration to keep writing. Plus she laughed at all my funny scenes which I needed because I have approximately 0 confidence in my hilariousness. And late night conversations as I frantically wrote. I swear I didn’t procrastinate that much on this fic, I started a while back. I just have a huge problem with writer’s block. And by huge I mean huge, I got stuck on one line for about 20 minutes. Which is mostly why sometimes it seems like the scenes are jumbled. Because I wrote them sporadically and I wrote what I felt like writing and could write at the time, so writing the connecting scenes were difficult. You have no idea how many times I just put ~insert shit~ and then moved on. 
> 
> Oh but I’m pretty damn proud, I mean. Wow. Almost 13k. I wasn’t even aware I could do that yet. AND IM REALLY EXCITED ABOUT THIS, I HAVE SO MANY PLANS FOR TIMESTAMPS AND STUFF. (I mostly put that in all caps so that if a person scrolled through this entire monologue, they would at least read that part)
> 
> Also before any of you ask, I will be writing the story behind Dean getting the samulet from Sam (because yes Sam gave it to him) and I’ll be writing the story of them first meeting. Many plans. So many. This is gonna be pretty damn awesome, and I’m not sure if any of you even liked it but I’m gonna write them anyways because I am as much a reader of this fic as the writer, so I want to know what happened. 
> 
> Plus, all those scenes where you just went “Oh my fucking god Dean why” and then burst out into laughter? Yeah me too. I’m pretty sure Dean just decided to take over my body and write those lines. 
> 
> And most of the funny scenes came from the 1 am ramblings of Leaf. Anyways. Hope you enjoyed. And if you read this entire little note thing, kudos to you. 
> 
> ~Leaf
> 
> PS: Oh dude I totally just got why PS stands for post-script. Because it’s after the script. Dude, I never got that till now, how exciting. ANYWAYS, (dammit focus Leaf) the sex scene? Yeah that was the last scene I wrote because for some goddamn reason I had about zilch inspiration for it. Nothing. And the thing is, I’m good at smut, I write pure smut, I have rp-ed so many pure smut rps it’s not even funny. I think this fic was mostly fluffy and angsty and stuff, so maybe that’s why? I don’t know, but because of that reason, I feel like that scene is just kinda shit. The after sex scene I liked, but the actual smut? Man I was on my own there. It was like Sam and Dean (mostly Dean if you couldn’t tell which makes about no sense because this is from Sam’s pov) were helping write this thing, but then I hit the sex scene and they left me dry. If all of that sounded weird I’m so sorry, don’t let the crazy, weird writer keep you from liking the fic. At least, hopefully you like it. Right?


End file.
